


Midnight Snack

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request:  “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 26





	Midnight Snack

He was never going to forgive Geralt for this.

One moment you were there, a vision of loveliness, the nextGeralt was pulling him away to remind him of his promise to stay in town andlet Geralt take this next trip alone. By the time he got back to the courtyard where the hosts and their guests mingled and ate, you were gone. Vanished into the night and with you, all of his hopes for company before his next adventure.

Jaskier sat in the kitchens, long abandoned by the rest of the staff now that the party was over and their master and mistress asleep. He scribbled some notes in his journal, the rough draft of a heart-wrenching meditation on what could have been. He was just working on a rhyme for “betrayal” when a soft gasp pulled him away from his writing.

You usually didn’t leave once the candles were doused. The servants quarters were the coldest in the manor and it usually took a good half an hour til your body heat warmed your cot enough to drift off to sleep. Tonight you couldn’t rest. You kept thinking of the bard who’d entertained at the party. You were unable to see most of it, catching only a glimpse of the him before being hurried off back to the kitchen, but you could hear him the whole night and his songs still played in your head. Frustrated, you finally decided to go take a walk to the kitchens to prep some starter for the morning’s bread. You hadn’t expected to walk in and see the very same bard sitting at the kitchen, squinting at a book as he tapped the tip of a quill against his lips.

At the sound of your surprised gasp, he looked up and the eyes turned from surprised to wolfish. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, were you needing something?” you asked, falling back on your training and trying not to think about the fact that you were in your night dress, hair down and rumpled from tossing and turning, barefoot and generally totally unprepared to be seen by anyone.

“I will confess my appetite has so far gone unsated,” he said, words spoken lowly and meaningfully.

“Ah, well, I’m so sorry to hear that, Sir…”

“Jaskier,” he answered, rising and walking over towards you to kiss your hand in greeting as though you were a noble lady and not a servant. “And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Y/N,” you replied. His hand had not let yours go after kissing it but he held it lightly so you could pull it away at any moment.

You didn’t.

“ **You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in** ,” he said.

“Does that usually work?” you asked, biting back a smile but unable to catch your words in time.

“Pardon?” he asked, looking genuinely taken aback.

“I just meant… I mean, do women usually fall for that?” you asked.

“Well frankly yes,” he admitted.

“Perhaps the gentry is expected to respond to such advances but the rest of us, not so much,” you explained.

“Indeed,” he said, “Do tell me of the mating calls of the other half.”

“Well that depends a great deal on what we want,” you’ve started to lose the courage you had seconds before under his gaze. The way his eyes keep glancing down at your mouth and the mussed state of his clothes and hair after a sleepless night.

“Alright. Let’s say, and you may not, you’ll have to tell me, but let’s say you wanted a couple of hours of passion,” he emphasized the last word with a dramatic head toss that would be stupid from someone else but oddly charming from him.

“A couple of hours?” you asked, more than a little skeptically.

“That could be negotiated. But you’ve sidestepped the question. What would you say, if that was something you wanted?” he returned.

There are rules when you work in a house like this one. One of the unspoken ones was that you tried to keep your business to yourself when it came to romance and followed the social order. You had a pool of people you could pick from and the silent understanding was that you wouldn’t leave it. This would be wading into some very tricky waters at the very least. But there was a glint in Jaskier’s eyes that told you it would also be very, very fun.

“I would ask if you were going to talk all night or put your mouth to better use,” you said, because you meant them and because you wanted to see if he was going to flinch away from such a brazen declaration from a woman of a lower class. His mouth is on yours before you can draw another breath.

You’re pressed up against the thick, oaken table where you and the other servants take your meals and you aid Jaskier in lifting you onto it. It seems wrong that a mouth could be so talented at so many things, but you accept the gift eagerly.

“You taste so sweet, honey itself must be rife with envy,” he muttered the sweet nothings along your jaw.

“Show, don’t tell,” you replied, rifling a hand under the exposed opening of his shirt and grasping at the toned, warm flesh beneath. He shrugs out of his doublet and pulls the shirt free, wrapping you in another embrace so you can better enjoy his body. He smells like cedar and wine and you know you will never smell either again without thinking of the rough grip of his hands on your thighs and the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

The two of you pull away the night dress, letting it fall to the ground by his clothes, and he does not stop to admire the sight, choosing to learn the image of your body through touch and taste. His kisses drop from your collar bones to your breasts and you run your hands through his hair as he experimentally licks and toys with you until you are almost painfully aroused. His kisses continue down your stomach, brushing the soft roundness of your belly with his tongue, inspiring a surprised gasp that lowers into a moan as he continues until he is forced to change positions.

He lowers himself to his knees, bowing before you like one preparing to be anointed. Your knees part for him at the barest touch of his fingers and here he does pause, unwilling to deny himself the sight of you. The smile that comes over his face is awe-stricken and adoring. You have never seen someone so genuinely, deeply happy to do this.

He starts with your thighs, kissing and nibbling each one with the same thorough attention despite your impatient whines and half-hearted attempts to pull him in closer. His strong arms wrap around your waist, gripping your ass possessively as he finally goes where you need him the most. Long, deep strokes evoke sounds you’ve never heard from somewhere deep inside of you, spurring him on. His nose brushes against the most sensitive part of you and you clutch a firm fistful of hair, the sudden sensation pulling a guttural moan from Jaskier, his face still buried deep. He looks up at you, those clever blue eyes gazing adoringly between your thighs nearly enough to push you over the edge. You feel him slide two fingers inside of you and he curls them slightly, playing you like an instrument, your moans the sweetest song he’s ever heard. You come for him, caught off guard by the intensity of it that sweeps over you and reverberates like waves crashing against the sand. Jaskier uses the echoes of your climax to his advantage, teasing more from you until you roughly push his face away, too sensitive to bear any more.

His face is slick and red and his breathing is labored and he stays there on his knees for a moment just looking at you and catching his breath. You have no words for what he’s done to you so you also pause to breathe and then, because you’re feeling a little punchy, you make a production of lifting an invisible pocket watch and considering it carefully.

“Hmm,” you say, “That was perhaps thirty minutes at best.”

He rises to his feet, towering over you as he stands, and you can feel the power balance shift sharply. He pulls at the laces of his trousers and pushes them aside, eyes staying on yours as he strips himself down all the way, enjoying the look on your face as you take all of him in.

“Oh pet,” he says, moving in closer and lifting your chin up, “We’re just getting started.”


End file.
